


Thorn In My Side

by wordsareleftbehind (froggydarren)



Category: Glee RPF, StarKid Productions RPF
Genre: CrissColfer Big Bang, M/M, Slow Build, high school/college fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-28 12:25:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2732444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/froggydarren/pseuds/wordsareleftbehind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Chris’ life has been about theatre for as long as he can remember. He got serious about it in middle school, though, and it was at one of the competitions that he ran into a preppy, cheerful, and therefore instantly annoying guy whose charm seemed to be getting him attention that Chris didn’t consider deserved. Darren is and has everything Chris wishes he was and had, and for a while it’s giving him the motivation to work harder, to defy his bullies and his odds at being successful in something he loves. Somewhere along the line, Chris starts wondering if Darren’s affection is more than what he expected, but doesn’t know how to ask. After Darren gets accepted to the University of Michigan, and they both end up at a post-competition party, Chris thinks he’s got nothing to lose. He finds out that he was wrong, and the loss gives him something he’ll want to prove. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thorn In My Side

**Author's Note:**

> Re: the archive warnings: Chris is underage for a big part of the fic, while Darren turns eighteen early on. There is no breaking the law in terms of the age of consent in California, though. The age difference is only as big as it is in real life. 
> 
> Re: research: I claim absolutely zero knowledge of how drama competitions work in the US, so please allow for artistic licence on that one. Same goes for UMich and Starkid (though feel free to point out if anything is wrong to the point where I need to edit it).
> 
> ETA:  
> Now with amazing art from [Robert](http://overcaustically.tumblr.com/)!  
> [](http://overcaustically.tumblr.com/post/105376166092/my-part-for-the-crisscolfer-big-bang-with-super)  
> (click on pic to reblog on tumblr)
> 
> ETA #2 (27/5/2015): And an eternity later, now Beta-read, thanks to the wonderful [Nomi](http://gnomerino.tumblr.com).

The competition that Chris is trying to get their drama club ready for isn't really as much of a contest as it is a showcase of plays and ideas. Chris knows this, is aware that there will not be any awards or prizes at the end. He'll still get to add it to his resume for colleges _and_ hopefully it will also look good when he's going to auditions, and that's what counts most for him. It's yet again in San Francisco, which makes him a little more excited than he would be for other events, because he _loves_ the city. He's been fascinated with it ever since elementary school, when he got to spend some time there with his Dad while his Mom was in various hospitals with Hannah. Not that Chris likes that it was necessary, but it definitely helped ease his worry about his sister, _and_ it showed him a city so much less restraining and -- he thinks hard about a word that explains Clovis, but only one seems to fit -- backwards.

He didn't know it then, but even before he acknowledged that he wasn't going to give his parents the traditional family they longed for, San Francisco was a dream of openness. Now that he knows -- no one else does, though Chris thinks Hannah has him figured out already, and his classmates are painfully accurate with what they consider insults but are actually facts -- the city is even more alluring.

It's only when he looks through the list of other drama clubs that are scheduled to show up that he groans in frustration. Of _course_ the preppy boys are showing up, it's just Chris' luck that he'd have to put up with them again. _Privileged brats_ , he thinks bitterly. He knows it is part jealousy for the opportunities those kids have -- ones that he can only dream of -- but there is also history, encounters from the past that he doesn't want to relive.

***

_Middle school_

Drama wasn't a popular subject; it was for wimps, for those who wanted to get out of gym class, for those who were weird and didn't fit in. Still, it was somehow part of his school's curriculum, and Chris wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth, since it was the one part of his week that made it worth being in school at all.

He was excited when the teacher announced that they were going to a competition, and not even the fact that there were prescribed plays to choose from managed to dampen his spirits. Of course, he talked the drama teacher into a different spin on one of the plays, an unexpected one that had her confirming its appropriateness with the headmaster. But they got the okay to go ahead, and Chris dove into the preparations for not only the script -- not that it needed as many changes as he was afraid it would -- but also the costumes and sets.

So much was hanging on the play for Chris -- more than for his classmates, since his Mom had gotten wind of the bullying he was dealing with and threatened to pull him not only out of drama but also out of the school -- that when they arrived in Sacramento for the competition, Chris had worked himself up into something way too close to a panic attack. On the morning before their performance, he ended up almost snapping at his classmates, so the drama teacher -- giving the task to a very unimpressed classroom assistant who was one of the chaperones -- sent Chris to cool down with a walk in the lobby.

The theatre was full of organizers, other drama clubs and some visitors who looked a little out of place. Chris assumed they were the parents of some of the other kids, and for a moment he wished Hannah could've made the trip. He didn't get to dwell on that too long, because he got rammed into with what looked like a prop, held by a dark-haired guy who was wearing a blazer with a school badge.

"Oh sorry, I didn't see you there!"

"'s okay," Chris mumbled and shifted a little, then rubbed his arm where the wooden edge hit.

"Let me," the guy started again, but ended up almost hitting Chris again.

"It's _fine_ ," Chris said louder and stepped backwards.

"I'm so, _so_ sorry; I've just been given this, and I did tell Marcus it was a bad idea because I'm too short but he needed someone to help and I'll just…" the guy tried to move to get out of Chris' way, but he ended up almost hitting another kid behind him, until the teacher who was with Chris stopped the prop from impacting.

It was as the guy rambled on that Chris realized that he was on the shorter side, and he did assume at first that he was from one of the elementary school groups. But the way he talked, and the blazer he was wearing told Chris otherwise.

"It's seriously okay," Chris grumbled one last time, and he looked to his teacher in a plea of support.

"Come on, Chris, we should get back to the room," Chris' chaperone said, clearly not willing to deal with injuries on top of a bus full of kids on a trip like this.

"I guess I'll see you on stage then," Chris heard the guy call out after them, the words followed by a muted thump and the familiar sound of apologizing, then an angry call of "Darren!"

Once he was back in the room, Chris' curiosity got the best of him, and he scanned through the schedule for the competition. Had anyone asked, he would have said it was out of boredom and lack of anything else to do, but he was keeping an eye out for one specific name. When he found it under the heading of -- as he was expecting -- a religious prep school, Chris rolled his eyes and, feeling only a little guilty for judging before he met someone properly, dismissed any thought of Darren he had.

It only lasted until the competition started, and he spotted the now-familiar school name on the door right next to Chris' school's dressing room. _Figures_ , he thought and ducked into their allocated room at the first sign of a blazer in the hallway.

***

Chris remembers all too well how all other encounters with Darren went -- Darren's never-ending energy quickly became a thing to look out for at events, his enthusiasm bordering on annoying in comparison to Chris' reserved approach. On multiple occasions, they shared the stage, a dressing room and sometimes even the awards.

Those were the times Chris really doesn’t want to think about, because his sense of fairness only ever stretched so far. It isn’t even that he was all that competitive for the sake of getting his hands on an award as much as it was always the awareness of how “second place” or “tied for” wouldn’t look as good on a transcript as “winner” would. And tying with someone who already had all the doors open and held the golden ticket to whatever they wanted? Sharing the awards with someone who was most likely doing all that for fun on the way to some sort of highly prestigious Ivy League school? (Chris is all too aware how much he needs to work on being less judgmental.) Chris did his best to put on a happy face, but his lines were drawn at Darren’s -- and it was _always_ Darren -- attempts to become best buddies up on the stage when they had to smile for the cameras.

“We’re going to have a little celebration in our room,” Darren said on more than one occasion, “you should see if you can sneak out to join us.”

Chris never did, scoffing at the idea of breaking those rules. Theatre was his one _good_ part of school, and he wasn’t going to risk losing it for an evening likely filled with illegal substances and lame jokes. Experience from his own school also made him wary of anyone’s friendliness. And the last thing he wanted was to become the butt of someone’s prank on the gay kid.

Even if he had learned that Darren -- and Darren’s entire theatre group, really -- was the last person to spring a prank on someone because of their sexuality, Chris still wasn’t willing to stick his neck out on the off chance that something would go wrong.

He knows that this is the last year that Darren will participate, though, and Chris is strangely conflicted about that. On one hand, he’ll be glad to not have to put up with what he’s come to see as a nuisance -- Darren’s loud and hard to ignore presence -- but on the other hand, not that he would admit it out loud, Chris wonders if next year’s competitions will lose a little bit of their color when Darren’s not around.

 _No way, it’ll be quieter and more serious next year_ , Chris thinks as he wanders through the lobby of their hotel.

Yet again, he is too nervous, too impatient, too wired for the teachers to put up with, but now that he’s in high school, they have less of an issue with letting him roam the common areas, as long as he knows not to leave the hotel itself. Chris might consider it -- the pull of San Francisco is still strong, even if he’s a little more used to its atmosphere -- but getting lost in a city he still doesn’t _know_ well enough is not in the cards; at least not this close to the competition’s start. So he sticks to the hotel’s many corridors and empty rooms, his eyes glancing at his watch every few minutes. Just as he’s debating whether he has time to look around the sports area of the hotel, he turns a corner and seconds later he finds himself on his butt right in the middle of the hallway.

“What the hell?” Chris hisses as the pain from the impact registers.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”

And oh, isn’t that a familiar voice that says those words. Chris’ eyes roll automatically, the situation suddenly almost hilarious if it wasn’t for how often something similar had happened in the past.

“You again? Seriously?” Chris grumbles, and he gets up, giving the offered helping hand a glare.

“I am really… oh hey, Chris, it’s you!” Darren’s face turns from apologetic into a bright smile. “I was hoping to run into you, but … oh shit, no, not like _this_!”

“Are you sure, because it seems to happen almost every time you’re near me,” Chris snaps back. “Maybe I should’ve hoped for a reassignment to the LA area.”

“But then we’d lose the only worthy competitor.” Darren’s lips turn into the beginnings of a pout. “And really, would you want to be competing against pretentious Hollywood brats who think they know the value of theatre?”

Chris stares him down after the comment, pointedly glaring at the school badge on Darren’s uniform, and then he raises an eyebrow as if offering a challenge.

“Fine, fine, pretentious prep school brat here,” Darren admits. “But come _on_ , it’s not like I have plans to either never take an acting lesson again or to throw it all away for something lame like law school.”

"You don't?" Chris asks, because that is what he is expecting from every one of the members of Darren's theatre group.

They have the money that can open doors everywhere, and not a single one of them hides it -- not even Darren, despite his attempts at seeming down to earth. So for one of them to say that he wants to pursue acting as more than just an extracurricular is a bit of a shock to Chris.

"I'm applying to the drama department at University of Michigan," Darren says, undeterred by Chris' obvious doubt and disbelief.

"And the rest of your applications are for what, medical schools?" Chris snaps.

He does have a second of regret about how sharp his response came out, but it doesn't seem to shake Darren in the slightest, so Chris pushes the regret away.

"You know, that's what most of my classmates and teachers ask," Darren says with a laugh. "Apparently I'm wasting my life by wanting to study drama, but man, my life has always been theatre or music. And music I can do whenever and wherever, unless I want to keep up classical."

"Do you play?" Chris asks surprising himself with how genuinely interested he is.

"Violin," Darren says proudly. "And well, the rather obvious guitar, but that one I taught myself, so maybe that doesn't count."

Chris can't help but stare for a moment. He had piano lessons, because it was expected of him, but he has never developed a love for performing music as much as acting holds his heart. Even though he has been pushing for musicals now that he's in high school, the fact that his vocals are stronger on what his teachers call "the girly side" is definitely not motivating.

"Let me prove to you that I'm not just an asshole who isn’t taking this seriously," Darren says.

They look at each other in silence for a while, and Chris' mind is buzzing with questions. He wonders why Darren wants to prove something to him -- a freshman whose opinion shouldn't matter and yet it somehow seems to -- about his motivation for the competitions. Then he thinks of how agreeing to a challenge would mean more pressure on himself, which is both worrying and intriguing.

"Why me?" Chris asks eventually, simply for the need of saying something.

"Because I've seen you on stage," Darren says, like it's the most normal thing in the world. "And I know you were the one responsible for your group's play choices. And that's awesome, dude, because four years ago, I was barely managing to remember my lines."

"Four years ago?" Chris smirks, because he's seen Darren fumbling for his lines even the year before.

"Okay, okay, so my memory is shit," Darren concedes. "None of that this year, though. I can't afford fucking up. Especially not if I have another person to prove something to."

"Fine," Chris says, his face turning serious yet again. "I don't get why you're doing this, unless it's some sort of prank…"

"Dude, I would _never_ ," Darren looks offended at Chris suggestion.

"…but even if it is, it can't be worse than the idiots at my school," Chris shrugs. "Prove to me that you're serious about acting."

"Okay, challenge accepted," Darren says and holds his hand out. "Shake on it?"

"What do I get if you can't be serious about it, though?" Chris asks instead of reaching for Darren's hand.

"Anything you want," Darren grins. "Because it's not like that will happen. I'm winning this one. And anyway, what do I win if I prove your assumptions wrong?"

"Feeling of accomplishment and an even bigger ego than you already have?" Chris shoots back.

"Ouch, dude, that hurts," Darren laughs, though he doesn't seem offended or hurt in the slightest.

"Okay then," Chris holds out his hand towards Darren. "The deal is that you prove to me this year that you're serious about acting."

"Deal," Darren shakes Chris' hand, but then, still holding it, frowns at Chris. "Wait, how do I do that?"

Chris laughs, tugs his hand away from Darren's, and then turns around to start walking back towards the lobby, so he can get back to his group's rooms.

"Chris! What can I do to prove it to you?" Darren yells out after him.

"Figure it out, prep boy," Chris calls out over his shoulder, and then he slips into the elevator, still laughing.

***

To Chris' undeniable surprise, Darren spends the first half of the year being punctual for their performances, pushing for more challenging plays -- even if they don't do so well in the competitions because they're not on the list they all know is likeable for the judges -- and, most shockingly, Darren doesn't trip over a line once.

Chris is impressed, not that he'd admit it out loud, but with every performance that Darren delivers, Chris can't help noticing that Darren is putting more effort into it that Chris ever knew him to do. As the school year progresses, they go back to sharing the stage during the award ceremony, Chris' usual drive enough to match Darren's newfound enthusiasm. And after every competition -- there are a few more of them that they both are in now that they're both in high school -- there's a little exchange that keeps reminding Chris of their deal.

"So, impressed yet?" Darren always asks when he runs into Chris after their performances are done.

"Eh, game's not over yet," Chris shrugs back without fail, and then he throws Darren the most innocent smile. "I'm sure you can do better."

At some point during the year, Darren's responding expression starts to change. Where at first Chris saw a mirroring teasing grin, Darren's face crumbles after Chris' brush-off. It takes a few times of repeating their exchange before it sinks in, and before Chris starts feeling a little guilty for continuing on in the same way. He knows -- he's not blind after all, and it's obvious how much harder Darren is trying -- that the effort that Darren puts into the performances isn't all just because he's a senior and his college acceptance hangs on them. It's clear that a substantial part of Darren's work is done to impress Chris, to win their little challenge, but Chris has mixed feelings about it.

It doesn't come to a head until one competition close to the end of the school year, though.

It's not a big one, nor is it a particularly important one; it's more of a send-off to the seniors in all the drama groups. Graduation is only a few weeks away, and a lot of them won't be coming back for the pre-summer competitions that are a preparation for the upcoming school year. Chris knows there's a party planned for after the competition is over, but he's supposed to get picked up by his Mom before it starts. Or at least that's what he was ready for, until he gets a call on his -- newly acquired, for these purposes especially -- cell phone. He's the only one who won't be on the bus back home; his Mom drove him to San Francisco where the competition is taking place, and she'll be the one driving him home. Only, now he knows it'll be a while later, because his sister's appointment is taking longer than they expected.

"Who pulled your curtain before your monologue was done?" Darren's voice surprises Chris just as he's pushing the phone back into his pocket.

He's gone to take the call in a dark corner of the backstage area, not too keen on having an audience for what he expected to be a routine check-in from his Mom. After all, though he's in high school and he has been for almost a full school year, his Mom still does the embarrassing overbearing thing sometimes.

"It's nothing," Chris grumbles, but he knows the moment the words are out that his acting skill has failed him miserably.

"Yeah, I'm not buying that," Darren shakes his head, and he sits down next to Chris on the dusty staircase that doesn't seem to lead anywhere.

"It's not a big deal," Chris tries to shrug off his disappointment. "My ride home just got postponed."

"Oh, you're not riding back with the rest of your group?" Darren asks.

"No, my Mom…" Chris starts, and immediately feels his embarrassment kicking in, because who has their _parents_ bringing them to these things.

Then he takes a deep breath, and figures that if he can tell anyone, it's Darren -- the one person he knows for a fact won't be around after tonight.

"My Mom drove me here," Chris explains. "My sister has appointments here from time to time, and this one coincided with the competition, so the school agreed that Mom's gonna drive me back and forth. The bus is full, so I can't catch a ride with them."

"And I'm guessing your Mom can't make it for the time you agreed on?" Darren asks, and Chris freezes when he suddenly feels the warmth of Darren's body a little too close.

"Yeah, she'll be a little longer, not that she knows how much exactly," Chris sighs. "I don't even know if the school will let me, anyway. It just… complicates things."

Darren gets up and holds out his hand to Chris.

"Come on, I have an idea," he says, and Chris is lost for those enough that he complies.

He's distracted by the fact that Darren seems to have zero qualms about holding Chris' hand while they walk past several storage and dressing rooms. When they stop -- Chris refuses to let his brain acknowledge that he almost ran into Darren and is now standing closer than necessary -- at the dressing room of Chris' group, there's a moment of worry that washes over Chris.

The idea turns out to be that instead of anyone panicking, changing plans, or worrying, Chris will stick around Darren's group until his Mom can get him. The post-competition party is booked in the hotel they all were staying in the night before, which is convenient enough to the hospital where Hannah has her appointments. After a quick discussion with Darren's drama teacher, and a call to Chris' Mom, Chris' teachers okay the plan.

"Cool, you can party with us!" Darren says, excitement making his body tremble.

Chris group has already performed, so he doesn't have to worry about keeping his cool on stage, because while Darren's plan solved one problem, it brought up another few for Chris. Not that they're the kind that he'd be willing to talk about, but they certainly make him lose some of the time when he's supposed to be watching the plays still being performed. Part of it is because Darren is nearby, since Chris has been separated from his own group already -- they'll be leaving the moment the awards are given out, and there's little chance today that they'll be up on stage for those. Chris knows he didn't give it his all today; there was little reason since it was more a participation event than one that counted towards the overall ranking.

Darren is there, and Chris' eyes drift over way too often, but he can't stop himself. It's how he spots the little things that remind him of what he doesn't want to deal with -- Darren leaning into a classmate when he's talking to them, a hand on a girl's back and moments later his chin propped on a guy's shoulder when Darren tries to stretch up higher so he can see the stage.

 _He makes it look so easy_ ; Chris thinks and looks away with a frown.

The past year was what cemented Chris' awareness of being different, really. The thought was at the back of his mind before, when he never felt the same need to discuss _girls_ as the guys in his class did, when he never had an interest in any of the proverbial pigtail pulling that every other boy was busy with since primary school. He hasn't dared to mention it to anyone, but the trips to competitions opened his eyes a lot. Like now, it's always an atmosphere that allows for less judgment and more freedom for doing whatever anyone wants.

Chris knows Darren won't get mocked openly for being touchy-feely with guys, not while there are enough people around him to knock the lights out of anyone who'd try. But he can also feel the judging looks from his own theatre group -- and a few similarly small-town ones. He knows that what Darren is so easily doling out -- attention to everyone in equal measure with zero prejudice or holding back -- is something Chris just _can't_. Not if he wants to make it through high school without giving his bullies more proof and more reason to knock him down.

"Hey, sorry you guys didn't make it up there," Darren tears Chris out of his musings and Chris realizes that he's daydreamed through the awards ceremony.

"Yeah, same," he says, his mind still a little distracted.

"Eh, no one really cares about this one," Darren shrugs. "Most of us are finished this year, so we're here for the paaaarteeeeh," he drags the word out in a sing-song tone. "Come on, grab your bag, we're off into the conference room we booked."

Chris tries hard not to focus on Darren's hand grabbing his own, on the warmth of their palms against each other. Instead he tries to give himself a reality check by remembering that Darren is like this with _everyone_ , that it means nothing at all, and that Chris should slip his hand out and let go so that no one else will see. By the time they're walking into the "party central" as Darren refers to it in the middle of his rambling on the way -- Chris has barely caught a few of the words -- they're still holding hands and Darren is grinning happily in Chris' direction.

"I so don't belong here," Chris mutters when he looks around.

"Yes, you do," Darren counters and tugs Chris towards the group that's gathered around what looks like the snacks table. "Come on, I'm gonna see if there's music."

Chris manages to drop his bag off -- he had  barely gotten around to grabbing it when Darren dragged him out of the auditorium -- which he considers a feat since Darren is showing no intention of letting Chris' hand go. Only when they get to the side of the room where bags and instrument cases are haphazardly thrown onto a pile does Darren slip his hand out of Chris', obviously realizing that he'll need both if he's going to play.

Moments later, the guitar is in Darren's hands and he's plucking the strings, biting his lip as he focuses on hearing the tones over the low rumbling noise of conversation. Chris shifts to the side, the feeling of being out of place hitting him all over again, and he watches. Sure, he knows that Darren plays almost every instrument under the sun, but _watching_ is different. Watching means that Chris focuses on Darren's fingers plucking the strings, on the way Darren's eyes close when he starts singing, the way he's a little out of breath when he comes down from the chorus of whichever song he's singing.

"Come on, the girls got a stereo set up," Darren says after a few songs, once he's spotted Chris trying to disappear into the wall he's leaning against. "I want to dance!"

Chris hopes that the little groan that slips from his lips isn't loud enough for Darren to hear, and when there's no reaction, he breathes out a sigh of relief.

"Oh, you're dancing too," Darren remarks then, and Chris freezes, his eyes wide in shock.

"No, nonono, no I'm _not_ ," he protests uselessly, because by then his hand is in Darren's again and they're halfway on the makeshift dance floor -- a space in the middle of the room that got cleared out while Darren was singing.

When Darren doesn't let go, Chris gives in and shifts reluctantly, not used to dancing when it's not a part of a production, let alone with other people in the room. The music varies but stays upbeat for a while, and after a while Darren lets go in favor of flailing around wildly, completely free of any inhibitions. Chris _wants to_ follow his lead, but he feels like he's being watched even when a glance around the room tells him that no one cares. He hears the opening tones of another song, panics because it's a slow one, and before Darren catches on Chris darts to the side of the room.

He watches as Darren turns around looking a little lost, but then falls -- almost literally, Chris doesn't miss the way Darren trips on air -- into the arms of a girl who's been dancing nearby. They sway to the music, but there's something different about the way Darren is usually with people. He seems to be scanning the room for something, for _someone_ , and Chris wonders which of the girls -- or guys, what does he know -- is the one Darren's on the lookout for.

 _Stop it_ , Chris thinks, feeling the pang in his heart as even the sight of Darren dancing with someone else in an exaggerated and goofy manner makes him wish for things he can't have. _He's leaving_.

Just then, a new song starts, and Chris' chest tightens even more when he listens to the first few words from the lyrics. _It's like you're a drug, It's like you're a demon I can't face down_ , he mouths to himself, eyes firmly focused on the carpet under his feet.

"Found you." He hears the whisper from a lot closer than he expected anyone to be.

Chris looks up, and he gulps when he gets the confirmation that it is Darren who's come looking for him. Then he feels a hand in his and his body moves with the tug that Darren gives him. They stay on the edge of the empty space, and Darren pulls Chris closer as he starts swaying to the music, a lot less showy than he had before.

"I got into UMich," Darren mutters into Chris’ ear as Kelly Clarkson sings _it's like I can't think without you interrupting me_.

There's a beat, and Chris' heart stutters. Of course Darren got into the school that's across the country. Of course it's the one that is the ultimate proof that Darren _is_ serious about acting.

"Congratulations," Chris spits out, his tone somewhere between "fuck you" and "well done."

Darren pulls away and looks Chris in the eyes, his own wide in shock, like Chris' voice stabbed him in the back.

"I guess you win," Chris tries for nonchalant and misses by about the distance from Fresno to Chicago.

Darren nods then, like he's acknowledging Chris' irrational anger, and somehow that makes it a little bit worse. Chris knows he has no right to be angry, but it still stings -- not just that he got proven wrong about Darren's dedication to theatre, but also that he's losing the one person he's gotten so attached to.

Just then, when Chris is about to push Darren away and get _out_ , he's pulled back in, and Darren is looking at him like he suddenly understands something. His brows furrow and then straighten in a dance that has Chris mesmerized more than he wants to be. And then, between two breaths, Darren's lips brush over Chris' in a gentle kiss.

"No," Chris blurts when he pulls away, pushing against Darren's chest. "Please, _don't_."

He knows he sounds like something broke in him, like he's about to start crying, but he doesn't care anymore. The only thing on his mind is that he wants to get out, get away before Darren's pity crushes everything hopeful that he's felt in the last year. And there is no way it's anything but Darren feeling sorry for the kid that stupidly challenged him about _acting_ of all things, the kid that developed a crush on him.

"Chris," Darren's voice is quiet, but he doesn't try to stop Chris' attempt at moving away. "I'm sorry," he whispers then, and Chris doesn't look back.

He tries to not _run_ to his bag, tries to keep at least a little bit of dignity, but he walks fast and doesn't look up to meet anyone's eye. He's out of the conference room before anyone can stop him -- and really, the only one he'd want to would be Darren -- and he slumps onto a couch in the hotel lobby. Chris' mind recalls the sight that a last glance into the party room: everyone still dancing like nothing happened, and Darren frozen in the corner, eyes following Chris' rushed exit. It breaks another little thing inside Chris, both because of the confused and disappointed look in Darren's face and because Darren didn't move to stop him.

By the time his Mom shows up to drive him home, no one has come out to check on him, but he spots one of Darren's teachers by the reception and lets her know he's leaving. She doesn't say more than a polite greeting to Chris' Mom and to him, and then the car door is closing on a chapter of his life.

***

Returning to school after the competition should feel different, and yet it doesn't. Chris falls into the routine of a regular day easier that he should have, all things considered, but it's hard to _not_ have the feeling of being stuck when nothing has changed. He still has barely any friends, still walks around the halls watching his back and failing to stay out of the firing line of mocking and insults. He considers himself lucky that at least no one seems to have caught on to what he now does acknowledge as a crush on Darren. It's a huge relief, because he doesn't want to think about just how bad the bullying would be if anyone knew.

He's even more determined than before to make it out of Clovis, though, and isolates himself deliberately to work harder on getting the grades he needs to do that. With less to work for -- he's long given up on pretending that it was _against_ Darren -- in the drama club competitions though, Chris loses a little bit of his drive to do more, and by the time he's in junior year, the club is in tatters. It falls apart completely about the same time that he manages to talk his parents into letting him audition in LA.

"Honey, are you sure?"

Chris looks at his Mom with absolute certainty, no matter how many times she asks.

"Yeah, Mom, I want to try." He plays up the pleading tone in his voice, hoping she'll understand how much it means to him.

His Dad drives him a few of the times, since his parents insisted at first that he can only audition on weekends so it doesn't interfere with his school work. As the year goes on, though, Chris finds more and more auditions that only clash with classes because of the drive. Combined with how harsh the bullying has gotten, his Mom relents, signs him off for home schooling for the second half of the school year, and Chris feels a little like he's been given wings.

The crashes of not getting callbacks come fast, but he knows that he can't get discouraged easily. To keep his options open, when he's not driving to LA and back, he burns through nights by sitting at his computer and writing down story ideas that his mind is bursting with.

"Tell me the one about the witch, Chris!" Hannah pleads when he actually has a chance to sit down and spend time with her.

He knows that selling a script is about as likely as booking a role. But the story about a witch who's been pushed aside her whole life because she's seen as unable to wield the same power as full-sized witches resonates with his sister, so he tries to mold it into a decent shape.

"It's not _finished_ ," he complains when she keeps asking.

"I don't care, she's my favorite already." Hannah lights up, and Chris is aware that he's fighting a losing battle.

"Okay, okay," he gives in with a smile when Hannah curls into his side, ready to listen to him.

It's moments like that, when he feels like he can do something for her, that make him even more determined to work hard on getting into the acting business. He's not all that eager to have his face out there; he's seen the dark sides to celebrity and having to deal with it all scares the shit out of him. But there's a glimmer of hope that if he does make it, he could get a chance to do things for her, for his parents, for people like him.

Sure, he's still not officially out to anyone, but he's also pretty sure everyone _knows_ , to varied degrees, that he's not going to "find a nice girl and give his parents grandbabies" as one of his aunts likes to tell him. Chris knows that it was Darren who made it click for sure, and it's partly why he still thinks about that party, about the kiss, about how much more his young and naïve self wanted then. In moments of weakness, he also admits to himself that he still does want. Even after almost two years and various tiny crushes he has barely acknowledged to himself, Darren is still on Chris' mind.

Chris isn't a stalker, but he would -- if anyone put him in an interrogation room and questioned him hard enough -- admit that he has looked up UMich's arts program. Of course, to anyone just a little curious, he'd explain that it's because it's something he wants: to get into college to study drama, to get _better_. He'd deny that it is partly because he hopes to come across Darren's name.

There's no sign of it when Chris looks, though. Instead, he finds enough information that makes him wonder if it might be the school for him. It's on the other side of the country, which helps with his mission to get out of Clovis, and he already knew that it's one of the better drama programs in the country. He has other options, but UMich is at the top of his list.

"Are you sure?" Chris' Mom echoes the question she asked him about auditioning before when he brings up college applications.

"It's one of the schools I've been thinking about for a while, and they do have other stuff I have thought about besides drama," Chris says trying to not give away that he might have an ulterior motive. "But they're really _good_ , Mom."

"Michigan is so far away, though, honey," she sighs. "You'd barely be able to visit."

"You could come visit me, though," Chris tries to sound enthusiastic about the idea, but knows he isn't selling it well. "I mean, if you came over in the winter, I bet Hannah would love the real snow," he says, smiling hesitantly.

"Don't pull the Hannah card," his Mom says with a frown. "Though, yeah, she'd like that."

"I'm not even in yet, it's not until after the summer." Chris shrugs. "Who knows where I'll be by the time I'm applying. Or if I stand a chance at getting in."

"Of course you do," he hears his Mom say, and he doesn't miss the _I'm your mother, of course I think you'll get everywhere you want to_ tone that tells him she doesn't really believe he can.

Chris only brought the topic up because he didn't want his parents to find out just how far from Clovis he's trying to get from materials he has requested from the schools on his list. He knows there will be one from UCLA, and one from the local colleges, but those are mostly there as back up.

The deadlines aren't looming yet, though, so he keeps his focus on auditions -- he books a commercial that barely gets airtime, and then he actually books a small role in a pilot that doesn't make it onto any public screens at all. Then there's a role that he really wishes would take off, but it ends up being a "congratulations, we'll be in touch" email in his inbox that doesn't get followed up. He's told that he's a very specific type, that there aren't roles for him. He shows up to auditions that called for "everyone" only to be told that he's not blonde enough or tall enough or, on one occasion that Chris convinces himself to think of as a potential "fun" story, he's not female enough.

One disaster follows another, and instead of dwelling on those, he gets into a summer school acting class before senior year. It turns out to be _mostly_ a bust -- he hears how his voice is too high and how he's too thin and wouldn't pass for a romantic interest (Chris decides not to point out how homophobic the assumption is that "romantic interest" only covers straight relationships). But at the end of the summer, they perform in a small theatre in Fresno, and by some miracle it turns out that he _is_ good enough for something.

"They want you in LA?" Hannah's eyes light up when he breaks the news.

His Mom is more pragmatic and points out that he's going to miss the start of his senior year. Chris, having spent the last few weeks of summer hoping she'd let him keep homeschooling, isn't disappointed at all. He booked a role, it's in an established show and while it's nothing _huge_ , he still gets to act.

"I can catch up if I need to, but Mom, this could be it," Chris pleads, though he knows that there are no guarantees and that he should keep his hopes realistic.

"Okay, we'll talk about what you need when you've narrowed them down." She eventually nods and leaves him to packing, which he took a break from to talk to her about the colleges.

The role gets him through the summer and lasts another few months -- his appearances are few, but he's staying with a cousin, so his parents don't mind him being in LA all the time. It allows him to stay on the homeschooling program instead of battling through senior year, and when his part is about to get cut, he books a role in a short. There's nothing after that, and Chris packs up and comes back home just in time for Christmas. But just after the holidays, he gets a call back to film another few scenes, and it drags into another few weeks in LA.

By the time he comes back to Clovis, he's missed the application deadline for Michigan, so he grudgingly applies to other colleges, the UMich brochure mocking him until he tosses it in the trash. He's still checking the website, and when he hangs up a calendar for the upcoming year, he makes a point to mark each month in it with a reminder to check for the deadline on UMich's site. He gets into the local college and makes it through the remainder of his senior year without any major incidents.

He still does auditions, though not as often because he's trying to keep his focus on school, but there are a few things he gets to do, and more importantly people he gets to meet. By the time he's starting college classes, he has contacts for a few screenwriters, and he's seriously rethinking his major -- words always came easier to him on paper than spoken out loud. His letter comes back thin, the denial clear and crushing, but Chris is still far from giving up.

"You want to spend the summer doing what?"

Chris knows that he's springing something on his Mom that wasn't in the cards, but he's drawn to the summer program that he stumbled across when he was researching how to boost his application. It's not only for UMich anymore; Chris is trying to build up his resume without the aim of getting into a college. Being _in_ college, even if it's only the local one, has shown him that he wants to write, that he has enough stories in him that he wants to tell. But the summer workshop is aimed at acting _and_ playwriting, so he found it impossible to resist applying.

"It's kind of a summer school," Chris tries explaining. "But it's more of an extra college class, and I can even claim credits for it. The class is run by people who are about to major in theatre, though, so it's not just a random summer school thing."

"And it's in…"

"… Ann Arbor," Chris answers the question his Mom doesn't finish. "But I have the money, Mom, and the fee covers dorms and all. It's not even the full summer, only July."

"I'll talk to your father," she finally seems to give in, and Chris only barely holds back the fist-pump that he wants to do.

"The deadline is in two weeks," he adds quietly.

"Okay," his Mom nods, and then she narrows her eyes at him again. "You really want to do this, honey?"

"Yeah, Mom, I really do."

"I'll do my best to convince Dad," she says, her face showing fondness that Chris hasn't seen in a while.

He knows they're not all that happy about his career choices and that both of his parents wish he'd find a job that's steadier than the bookshop he's been temping at. But at the same time, they both seem to realize that there's nothing -- their approval included -- that would stop Chris from trying to get into the business one way or another. He has sort of managed to soften the whole idea by mentioning that he also wants to study screenwriting, which is more of an office job than acting, and they can get on board with that.

The day after he applies for the workshop -- parental blessing received -- Chris goes on a search online to find out more about the people organizing it. He's just been pulled out of another pilot that didn't get too far, so having only the trip to Michigan planned for the summer he submerges himself in videos and research. When he's about to give up because it's the middle of the night and he can feel a headache starting, he stumbles onto the name Starkid that seems associated with the college.

"What the…" he mumbles when a YouTube page pops up and suddenly he's looking at a shot of a dark stage, laughter ringing through the speakers as his eyes scan the disclaimer to _Harry Potter: The Musical_.

When the single spotlight comes on, Chris forgets for a moment how to breathe. Because he _knows_ that face, even though there's a lot more hair around it and the glasses don't quite fit it right.

 _Darren_.

Chris' eyes are glued to the screen and his heart is racing as the first song starts. Darren is everything that Chris remembers, but older and in the costume a lot dorkier than he used to show in the prep school blazer. There are other people on the stage, Darren's friends and classmates, but Chris' eyes seek out Darren in every shot, even when he's not in focus. He keeps clicking through the videos one after another, switches to headphones when someone -- he guesses it's his Mom, but doesn't pause the videos to check -- bangs on his door to turn the sound down.

It's still dark when the last part of the video comes to an end, and Chris stares at the screen, breathless and incapable of thinking clearly. He isn't fooling himself into thinking that seeing Darren does nothing to him anymore or that he isn't hung up on what happened _years_ ago. But he didn't know in all that time what Darren was up to, and how he changed. Social media isn't Chris' thing; he's avoided looking up Darren's name on them since that party, even though it was tempting at times.

Now he has proof, and if his calculations are correct, Darren is about to graduate from UMich. It gives Chris a little bit of a relief when it comes to the summer workshop, but at the same time he can't help being disappointed.

 _You wanted him to be there_ , Chris' subconscious tells him, and he doesn't have it in him to fight against it. But he has reasons to get into their theatre program that are not Darren-shaped. Chris might have feelings for the guy left over since Darren was the first crush that Chris owned up to -- to himself only -- but he's not a love-struck idiot who would apply to a school for something like that. The summer program is something that he wants on his resume before he tries to apply, because it will look good on the application even if the workshop turns out to be a bust.

He still hesitates -- partly because his Mom won't stop asking if he's sure about going even after the entire stay is paid for -- when he's boarding the plane. It's his first time flying, and the first longer stay away from his family, so when he finally gets to his seat, he's jittery and nervous.

"Hey, you okay kiddo," the lady in the seat next to him asks when Chris' leg starts bouncing.

"I'm good," he rushes the words out. "First time flying."

"Oh, well, if you need anything, like holding someone's hand, just ask," she gives him a bright smile.

"Cerina, dear, don't mother the young man," the man on the other side of Cerina says with a pleasant smile.

"She's not," Chris blurts, and looks into the friendly eyes. "Thank you," he tells her quietly.

He's fine for most of the flight, but when they hit turbulence, he takes her up on the offer. She talks him down from his panic by telling him about her son's first flight -- to the Philippines, when he was barely five -- and the misadventures on the way. Chris laughs his way through listening to her talk about the amount of books they had to bring, and the impromptu performances her son put on for the entire plane. Something in the story makes him think of Darren, but he shakes the thought off, and naps for the last hour of the flight.

He loses the couple at the airport when he's trying to find his luggage, and then when he's searching for the group he's supposed to meet. While his eyes scan the arrivals hall he catches a glimpse of Cerina and he wants to go over to thank her, but just then he hears his name called from the meeting point. He glances back towards her, and he spots a bushy head of curly hair that gives him pause. His name rings through the noise of the crowd again, though, and he doesn't get a chance to confirm his suspicion, so he shakes it off.

"Hey, you're Chris, right?"

He nods as he recognizes the girl who's speaking to him from an online chat some of them participated in before the workshop. She's shorter than he expected, but then a lot of people seem to be since he is going through a growth spurt. He tries to get his brain to come up with her name, but there were quite a few and he's never been all that good at remembering.

"I'm Lauren, nice to meet you in person." She grins when she realizes why he's frowning.

"Draco," Chris blurts out when the memory of the musical he saw hits him.

Lauren laughs, and then wraps her arm around his to lead him towards everyone else they're supposed to meet with.

"I can't believe you caught that," she says as they walk. "We've taken it down because it wasn't really public-friendly. It's actually part of the workshop, because we're editing it and it will go back up on YouTube while you're here."

"Oh," Chris says, feeling a little dumb for not having anything else to say to that.

"Now come on, your flight was the last one of this bunch, we'll get you guys to the dorms," Lauren says the last bit a little louder for the other three people standing around awkwardly next to another girl that Chris remembers from the play.  "Julia graciously offered to do the driving today."

"And by _graciously offered_ , Lauren of course means that no one else was willing to _not_ get wasted to celebrate the start of the summer," Julia says in a deadpan tone, and she nods towards the parking lot sign.

"Be nice, Jules, we have a _fan_ here," Lauren grips Chris' arm harder, and he can't stop the blush rising in his cheeks.

"Oh man, please tell me you didn't catch the abomination that was the Potter musical," Julia shudders and glances at Chris.

He shrugs, and she goes off on a rant about how the rest of the group put it up without editing it, cussing and messed up lines included.

"It wasn't that bad," Chris says quietly.

"Oh it was," Julia shakes her head. "Not that I or anyone else can stop that lot from cursing up a storm, but _some of us_ ," she says with a pointed glare at Lauren, "would actually like to present it as serious work."

"It was becoming pretty popular already, I think you'd be fine," Lauren smirks.

"And it will be again when we make it less like a high school drama club performance and more like the work of people with theatre degrees," Julia keeps frowning.

They reach the car -- or rather a minivan -- and everyone gets in, Julia sliding into the driver's seat and Lauren dragging Chris into the one next to her. Chris wisely decides to not comment on how many high school performances he has done before and lets Lauren ramble at him about Harry Potter. She questions him about the play -- how he found it, what he thought, what his favorite part was -- and he gladly replies, though he avoids mentioning Darren.

The drive is not long, even though they hit a bit of traffic on the way, and the girls hand them over to Joey and Brian, who are supposed to assign their rooms and get them settled. Chris is told that for now he doesn’t have a roommate yet, but that it might change as more people arrive. Joey explains the number of girls and guys who signed up is fairly even, but he's the last one of the guys to come in, so he's the odd one out.

"That's a feeling I'm familiar with," Chris mutters quietly, then blushes and hopes that Joey didn't hear him.

"I think you'll fit right in," Brian comments. "You're a Potterhead, that's already a good sign."

They leave Chris alone then, with a quick explanation about dinner and that the program itself will be starting in the morning. He drops his bag on the bed and falls next to it, still not really convinced that he did make it to Ann Arbor. It's not the way he wishes he was there -- accepted to the theatre program like he planned the summer before -- but he's _there_.

It's strange to have people around him whom he saw in the musical, people he knows are friends of Darren's. His mind supplies the word "surreal", but it doesn't feel right enough. He feels like he walked into a dream, and when he wakes up, he'll be back in Clovis still waiting for a chance to get further away than the California borders. It's the thought that sticks with him through dinner, where he makes awkward conversation with other people who are there for the workshop, and the one that he is still dwelling on when he falls asleep.

Which is why he wakes up to his phone buzzing louder than it normally does, and he immediately knows that he slept in -- his buzzer is set to increase in volume with each press of the snooze button. Chris throws on the first clothes he finds in his suitcase that look halfway decent, rushes through his bathroom routine, sticks his glasses on because he has no time for contacts, and he runs out of his room, the workshop program crumpled in his fist.

"They only just started," Lauren tells him when he breathlessly apologizes for the bad start. "Just sneak in and be quiet. It's only the intro, I'll fill you in on the very beginning," she offers and Chris throws her a grateful smile before he slips through the auditorium door.

He has his eyes fixed on the ground at first, because tripping over and making an entrance is _not_ what he wants to introduce himself with. When he slips into a seat that's on the edge of one of the rows at the back, he finally lifts his eyes and turns them to the stage.

A split second later, he's frozen and his hands are in a deathly grip on the armrests.

 _Darren_.

Because it's just Chris' luck that it would happen, Darren is up on the stage, talking fast and loud about something that Chris' mind can't process. Chris holds his breath until his lungs scream for attention, and then he gasps just loud enough to earn him a glare from people that are a few seats away from him.

 _Darren_.

His mind is blank except for the one name that repeats over and over, as he tries to catch his breath properly, the sight in front of him causing his stomach to flutter. Four years since the party, and Chris knows immediately that even though he made it through seeing Darren on the computer screen okay, he's way too affected by just seeing him now.

It takes some time before Chris starts listening to what's being said on stage -- Darren has moved over to the side and the person talking isn't one that Chris recognizes. He tries hard to focus on all the information, and succeeds until he feels a hand on his shoulder. When he looks up, Lauren is there and mouthing "move over" at him, an eyebrow up like she's trying to figure something out. Chris complies without protest, and she slides into the seat he's vacated, looking at him with curiosity for another few beats. The intro finishes soon after, and Chris glances at the crumpled leaflet in his hand, trying to remember where he's supposed to go next.

"Come on, we'll get you the workshop kit," Lauren commands when she stands up, and grins. "You can meet everyone, since you missed the introductions."

Chris follows her slowly, reluctance written all over his movement, and when she approaches the group of people who are still on stage, he can feel the panic rising in his chest. Lauren grabs his hand and shoves a folder at him with at the same time -- Chris didn't even notice she grabbed one from the table in front of the stage.

"Guys, look who I found!" Lauren calls out to the others, who immediately turn their attention to her.

"Chris, my man," Joey grins wide as he walks over, jumping off the stage with a loud thump. "Couldn't see you earlier, I was worried the girls scared you off. And by girls I mean Lauren," he adds with a smirk directed at her.

"He's not that easy to scare off, right, Chris?" Lauren stares at him like she's daring him to contradict her.

Chris shakes his head, but even he knows it's not really convincing. His mind is spinning from the mix of feelings -- part of him is still reeling from the nightmare of being stuck in Clovis, another is shaky because of the way he rushed down without breakfast, and there's the very hard to ignore pounding in his chest that causes him to avoid looking around properly.

"Chris," Darren's voice breaks through the chatter even though it's quiet and low. "Oh my god, Chris," he repeats and his face starts lighting up.

Chris is vaguely aware of the surprised hum around him, but he looks up and meets Darren's eyes. He can _hear_ his own heartbeat, and there's no way he could deny the way his whole body is shaking when Darren takes a step closer.

"You two know each other?" Lauren's voice sounds like it's coming from behind a veil, and Chris somehow manages to shrug.

"Chris and I go _way back_ ," Darren says, still smiling like he's been told Christmas has come early.

"Yeah," Chris nods, lost for any other words to say.

He guesses from Darren's reaction that he's the only one who was dwelling on everything that had happened years ago. Unlike Chris, who's shaken to the core by the meeting, Darren looks carefree and _happy_ , like he's forgotten that last moment they had. It stings, hurts in a way that Chris didn't expect it to -- not that he planned on meeting Darren, but the possibility was always in the cards. That Darren doesn't look at all like he even remembers the party, _the kiss_ , is making Chris' eyes sting.

"I didn't know you were going to be here," Darren frowns for a second, then his face lights up again. "I'd have dressed nicer."

It's such an off-hand remark, such nonchalant way to talk about it, that Chris' insides crumble because of what it means to him. He spent a part of four years wondering why Darren had kissed him, he came to terms with who he was and that he was gay because of that one moment, and Darren's words right now are a complete dismissal of the moment's significance.

He feels a hand on his elbow then, and when he turns, Lauren is looking at him with concern written all over her face. Chris tries to shake his head to ease her worries, to let her know that it's fine even though he feels like he needs to get out before he embarrasses himself. She just frowns harder, and then suddenly she's slipping her arm through his, and she's grinning brightly at the rest of the group, Darren included.

"Right, this is all nice, but Chris is in _my_ group this morning," she declares to Chris' surprise. "So you can't have him, because I'm taking him for breakfast."

She tugs gently on Chris' arm and leads him towards the exit on the side of the stage without giving him a chance to say anything. Chris, still too much in shock to protest, follows her, clutching the workshop folder to his chest like he's trying to put a barrier between himself and the rest of the world.

Lauren doesn't speak until they are sitting down at one of the tables in what Chris assumes is the dining hall -- he only just took notice of the round tables with small groups gathered around them. When Lauren stays quiet, he glances around and for the first time he actually pays some attention to all the other people in the room. They seem to be of all ages, and there is no other distinguishing mark between participants and organizers besides T-shirts like the one Lauren has on: a bright purple monstrosity with _Starkid_ printed on the front.

What is even harder to miss than the tee she's wearing is the inquisitive look in her face. Chris feels the blood drain out of his face when her eyebrow quirk up.

"So," she drawls and then pauses for a beat. "What did Criss do?"

Chris' eyes widen in surprise, because he is not used to anyone being as forward with questions as Lauren obviously is. He knows subtle hints, questions that are posed in a way and with a tone that says "don't tell me the truth; lie to me if you have to."

"Nothing," he tries out the lie, but knows immediately that he has failed to be convincing.

"Try again," Lauren smirks. "I thought you had some acting practice."

"I do," he says, and it's loaded because of where a lot of his practice comes from.

The memories of the competitions from his middle and high school shoot through his mind. With them, of course, comes the memory of high school Darren.

"That look," Lauren points the fork she's holding at Chris' face. "What is _that_ look about?"

"What look?"

"Don’t play with me, Colfer," Lauren narrows her eyes. "I could get Julia here. And trust me; with her you really _should_ expect the Spanish Inquisition."

"Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition," Chris shoots back automatically, and then he watches as Lauren bursts into giggles.

"Brownie points for the classy reference," she says when her laughter dies down. "But you're not derailing me. Talk."

Chris takes a deep breath, and he glares at his plate like it's what's causing his stomach to turn.

"I knew Darren a few years ago," he says, and his voice is barely a whisper. "We… I did drama competitions and we met a few times."

"A passing acquaintance from high school wouldn't make you almost panic," Lauren continues questioning. "I won't tell him, though if he fucked up in some way, I won't hesitate to sic Julia on him. She's about the only one who could ever smack sense into him."

Something in Chris' chest constricts, and he knows that Lauren didn’t miss the gasp that he didn't quite manage to suppress.

"She does that to everyone, as you could see yesterday," Lauren adds, a little too quickly to not be for his benefit. "Including me."

When Chris looks at her with curiosity, she gives him a nod that's so quick and stealthy that he almost thinks he's imagining it. Then Lauren grins, and he knows there's more to that last remark than she's willing to talk about just yet. But it's enough to make his brain and his heart believe that she's trustworthy enough to tell her more than the short and edited version of the past.

Over the rest of breakfast, Chris tells her about the competition, about the way he challenged Darren about his dedication to theatre. He pauses a few times, trying to remember details and debating with himself how many he wants to share.

"There was more to it, wasn't there?" Lauren asks when Chris stops talking just as he reaches the part about the last time he saw Darren. "I'm not going to ask," she says when Chris bites down on his bottom lip.

"There _was_ ," he says with a nod.

Then, bracing himself for whatever might come his way, Chris takes a deep breath, and with the exhale, he whispers, "He's the reason I know I'm gay."

Lauren lets out a low whistle at the confession, and then she looks at him with an expression completely lacking the sympathy or disgust that he always feared.

"You're not out to many people, are you?"

Chris shakes his head.

"My agent. Mom made me get one when I started auditioning," he explains. "I didn't want to … I wanted him to know in case auditions came up that I wouldn’t be okay with. I didn't want to get stuck playing anything blatantly homophobic."

"Your Mom is a smart woman," Lauren says, and then she frowns when Chris' shoulders sag. "I'm guessing you're not really out to your family, either?"

"We never… the words were never said, but I'm guessing they know," Chris answers with a shrug that falls a few miles short of the nonchalant that he's aiming for. "It's a thing that wouldn't go down well with … I mean, my parents … it's complicated. Like, conservative people kind of complicated."

"Ouch, that sucks," Lauren nods in acknowledgment. "You're not going to get judged here, I can promise you that. Not that I'm pushing you to _be_ out, but no one here is allowed to be a bigot. Hell, half of us would go against ourselves," she finished with a self-conscious laugh.

Chris lifts an eyebrow and relaxes a little when she shrugs to let him know that he's probably guessing right. But he also senses that it's something the girls have not quite figured out themselves, so he doesn't dig further.

"I think everyone around me knows, though," Chris steers the topic back. "The kids in my school definitely did, I was just lucky none of them were at the goodbye party…"

He stops himself, knowing he already said too much, or at least enough for Lauren to want to know more. Chris wonders for a second how he's known her for less than a day and yet she already feels like she's a better friend to him than anyone he's ever had before.

"So, did he end up proving you wrong or right about the dedication to acting?"

The change of topic throws Chris for a loop, as well as the fact that Lauren didn't immediately jump on the open end to his mention of the party.

"He's here, isn't he? With a degree in it and all," Chris shrugs like those facts answer the question.

Lauren lets out a loud laugh and glances towards the other side of the dining room. Chris follows her gaze and then quickly turns back when he spots the familiar head of curls at one of the tables.

"He _would be_ , like the rest of us in his year, but he's a lazy shit," Lauren says between chuckles. "He didn't have enough credits to get his diploma."

"That complicates the answer," Chris says in a dispassionate, newscaster-like tone. "On one hand, he _did_ get in and lasted the full four years.  On the other, he hasn't graduated yet. I might leave the jury out on that one for now."

"You'd need to stay in touch with him after this if that's what your decision hangs on," Lauren points out, and Chris grunts because she has a point. "Do you _want_ to?"

"I don't think what I want makes that much of a difference," Chris says and follows it with a sigh. "Not when he doesn't."

"You might be surprised," Lauren smirks.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Chris bristles, and he knows that he'd be hissing if he were a cat. "You were right there, watching him act like nothing happened."

"Let's just say that it's enlightening to know that _you_ were the one who challenged him," Lauren offers as an explanation that just leaves Chris more confused. "And what _did_ happen at the party, Chris?"

She's looking him in the eyes, and her lips are curled in a sly smirk. Chris curses to himself, because he really should have known better than to believe that she'd let it go as easily as she seems to have.

"N-"

Chris has barely opened his mouth, and Lauren's hand is already facing him palm out.

"Don't lie to me, Colfer," she says with a tone that makes him shiver.

She's tiny, but he knows enough to know that trying to convince her that nothing happened or that it wasn’t a big deal would be a mistake.

"He was my first kiss," Chris whispers, and his fingers twitch around the piece of tissue he pulled from the stand in the center of the table.

He's so focused on it that he doesn't notice Lauren's absolute silence for a while. When he does, and his curiosity gets the best of him, he looks up to find her staring at him in shock.

"What?" Chris asks and tries to hold back his irritation.

"It's just," Lauren's expression softens just as Chris' frown deepens. "Darren has been nothing but straight since I've known him. Not homophobic," she quickly explains, "but most definitely _not_ into guys. At all. Which is a little bit unusual in our group, because…"

She waves her hand like it's obvious why Darren identifying as straight and holding on to that is something that makes him _not_ fit. Chris keeps frowning, though it turns into confusion more than anything, and Lauren chuckles.

"We're sort of a…" she pauses, and then shrugs before she continues, "we're a touchy-feely and a slightly incestuous bunch. Once you've shared a dressing room as many times as we did, the boundaries fall apart easily."

"They didn't in our group," Chris says with a heavy sigh, remembering all too well how isolated he felt even in a group of people who shared an interest with him. "Then again, it's probably different when you actually like what you're doing instead of being in drama because it looks good on a resume."

"It's also different in college," Lauren says reassuringly. "Especially when you're in musical theatre _and_ come in with the attitude that anything goes in college."

"Except kissing boys," Chris mutters, still reeling over what she told him about Darren.

Lauren nods, and Chris catches the split second glance that she throws in the direction of all the other Starkid members.

"That said, he did mention you quite a few times," she blurts out then, and Chris' eyes widen. "Not by name, but…"

Chris' eyebrow lifts, and he waits for her to explain because he's not sure what to ask about and how.

"From the way he mentioned his drama club in high school, and the competitions, I'd guess you're responsible for him being here," she finally says, not clearing up Chris' confusion much.

"Me? _How_?"

"Did you ever stage a gender-bent Sweeney Todd?"

"I… yeah," Chris almost chokes on the orange juice he just took a sip from. "That was in the last year," he adds and ducks his head.

"Well, according to Darren, _that_ is our benchmark of genius we should be aiming for," Lauren grins. "He wouldn't shut up about how this one drama club totally wiped the floor with everyone else, and how it was a _freshman_ who came up with the idea."

Chris' cheeks are burning when he looks back up to her.

"That one stood out, mostly because we almost did the Potter thing gender-bent," Lauren finished with a grin.

"I'd have loved to see that," Chris says quickly, feeling like an escape hatch has opened and he can steer the conversation to a safer topic.

"You'll get your opportunity this month, so you can pitch it to the others. Though Julia will be grumbling because we've been through that discussion a few times."

"I'm probably better off not doing it then," Chris sighs. "I don't have a clue what to expect from this month; this isn't really what I was prepared for."

"No one is ever prepared for us," Lauren smirks. "But it's really not all that different to a summer theatre camp."

Chris mutters about how he has never been to one of those, or summer camps of any other form, and it's enough of a prompt for Lauren to launch into a long-winded explanation about the program. By the end of breakfast, Chris feels a lot more relaxed, and meeting Darren isn't weighing heavily on his mind anymore. He still glances to the corner where Darren was earlier as Lauren declares that it's time to get to the group he's with that morning, but the bushy curls are nowhere to be seen.

Somehow, Chris gets through almost a full week before he sees Darren again, and he has a feeling that Lauren has something to do with which groups Chris is working with and when. He doesn't complain, because when he spots the schedule for Friday, and the unmistakable scrawl of "Darren" under the music-related workshop Chris is supposed be in, he is almost sure that he can handle it.

He takes a few breaths before he walks into the music room and almost immediately realizes that Darren isn't the one _leading_ the workshop, because AJ is standing at the front of the class. Chris spots Darren's curls in the corner, and he ducks into a seat at the back before Darren can engage him in any kind of conversation. Two more people rush in, and after AJ does a quick head count, he dives into an explanation about the plans for the music part of the program.

It's only at the end of the two-hour slot that Chris stops jumping every time someone walks up to him. By then, he's admitted to the piano lessons his parents made him take, and AJ questioned him about his vocal range -- Chris explains that he never had lessons, and yes, that is his untrained voice, after he sings a few things along with the others.

"Dude, you're a countertenor, aren't you?" AJ asks with amazement lacing his voice.

"Yeah, I guess," Chris says with a shrug. "It's not like I had anyone professional tell me that. Just the usual school bullies ragging on me for having a girl voice."

" _Girls_ wish they could hit notes the way you can, man," AJ grins. "Except maybe Jamie, when she tries really hard."

"And try she does," Darren speaks up from behind their backs.

"Fuck, DC, get a bell," AJ grunts after jumping at the surprise.

"That would be no fun," Darren sticks his tongue out like the mature person that he is, and Chris can't help but snigger a little.

"Chris, my man, we'll work with that voice for sure," AJ smiles warmly. "I'll see you after lunch; you're in one of my 'shops."

Chris nods dumbly, the awareness of how close Darren is standing suddenly hitting him full force. AJ walks off with a wave, and Chris realizes that everyone else has left the room already.

"So," Darren breaks the moment of silence with hesitation. "It's been a while."

"Really?" Chris asks him, and immediately tries to push down his disbelief.

"How have you been?" Darren asks, undeterred by Chris' tone.

"Fine, I guess."

"Chris," Darren says then, his voice soft and almost apologetic.

"Darren," Chris spits out as anger builds in his chest.

"Look, I… I'm sorry," Darren sighs, and he barely manages to keep eye contact with Chris.

"Whatever," Chris tries to breathe through the rant that he can feel forming in his head. "Bygones and all that," he shrugs.

"It's not… Chris," Darren's tone has a hint of pleading in it, and Chris has no idea what to do with that.

"Don't," he says firmly. "Don't apologize just because you feel like you have to. Or because Lauren or someone else told you that you should. We're both adults now, it's not like I'm the same stupid kid anymore."

"Stupid is the last thing I would ever think you are," Darren mutters, just loud enough for Chris to hear. "And I'm sorry that I hurt you, Chris."

"It's fine, people did worse to mock me than pretend to kiss me," Chris grumbles and he turns to leave, because he knows he can't keep himself together much longer.

The feeling of betrayal washes over him when the words come out, the memories hitting him with full force.

"Chris," Darren says when his hand lands on Chris' arm, touching only enough that Chris can feel it but not enough to stop him. "Why would you think I was mocking you?"

When Chris turns around, there's confusion written all over Darren's face, along with a hint of concern and hurt.

"Everyone else did," Chris whispers shakily. "You were about to leave, I was a stupid kid with a crush, what else could it have been?"

"Sure, _you_ were the one with a crush," Darren mutters. "Seriously, the very last thing that you could be is stupid. That's my specialty."

"You… what?"

Chris is staring in shock as Darren's cheeks redden quickly, and the warmth of Darren's palm on Chris' arm is sending little waves of shivers through Chris' body.

"Chris, I wasn't… why did you think I asked you to stay for the party?"

"Pity, charity, sudden burst of altruism," Chris shrugs, recalling the reasons he had come up with back then.

"Chris," Darren responds softly and his fingers twitch against Chris' arm. "That… no," he shakes his head, curls bouncing with the movement. "I knew it was my last event, and when you said you weren't leaving right after, I… I didn't want you to just _leave_. You weren't even fifteen then…"

"I was, actually," Chris interrupts, though he bites his lip immediately after the words are out. "The Friday before the competition," he adds when Darren stares at him with a shocked expression.

"I, fuck, I'm so sorry, Chris," Darren blurts. "I didn't even know it was your birthday and then I… I wish I'd known, we would've gotten you a cake and the party would've been for you, too."

"That wouldn't have changed anything, Darren," Chris says. "It wasn't the first birthday or the last that…"

"I made it shitty," Darren says with regret written all over his face.

"You really did _not_ ," Chris insists.

"I did something wrong, though," Darren says, and it's not a question but a statement.

Chris shrugs his shoulders, because with what Darren has just told him, his perception -- with the help of the time that has passed -- of the whole disaster of a party is changing.

"Let me prove to you that I didn't have bad intentions," Darren pleads.

"Again?" Chris quirks an eyebrow up as the offer brings back memories from four years ago.

"Well, I've done pretty well at proving you wrong that time, didn't I?"

Darren's tone is a little playful, and Chris feels his lips turn up into a smile that he's given up on fighting off.

"I don't know, have you graduated yet?" Chris challenges with a wide grin and a glint in his eye.

"Fucking _Lopez_ ," Darren mutters under his breath. "I have _one_ class that I need credits for. One. I'm just a few credits away from the diploma."

"Not quite there yet, though," Chris smirks.

It's easy to fall into the banter that they did have before, and somehow it feels like nothing at all has changed since Darren was eighteen. He promises Chris to prove that mocking had been the last thing on his mind, and Chris doesn't bring up the kiss again. Darren seems to understand that and doesn't mention it either, but the week after is filled with Darren being a perfect gentleman, seeking out Chris to have random conversations, and overall being as friendly as he possibly can without being creepy and stalkery.

He's also very tactile, and that takes Chris a few days to get used to, even though Lauren and Julia's hugs and touches have broken down a few of his walls. It's different with Darren, though. Every time there's contact, Chris has to fight off both the urge to bolt and to lean into it, his mind and body torn between the two options. Lauren's comments about closeness and lack of boundaries echo in Chris' mind -- and she wastes no time reminding him of them through the week.

"Do you believe me now?" Darren asks the next weekend, when everyone is in the auditorium, and they snuck away into a corner that's not as loud as the rest of the place.

"What is it that I'm supposed to believe?" Chris asks, trying to look genuinely curious so Darren doesn't catch on to being teased.

"That I don't have any nefarious plans," Darren sighs dramatically. "I guess we never actually said _what_ I'm trying to prove here, did we?"

"Besides proving that you're an idiot?" Lauren says as she peeks around the wall at the back of the room that they're hiding behind. "You're missing _dancing_ ," she adds in a tone that makes it seem like they're stealing someone's puppies.

She disappears right after, and Chris feels the awkwardness settle between Darren and him.

"Give me one more week," Darren says then, and his eyes dart between Chris and the floor. "A week to prove that this time I want us to stay in touch and that I wouldn't mock you or pity you. I want us to be friends," he finishes quietly.

"You've been pretty much carrying my books this week," Chris smirks, emboldened by the sight of Darren looking unusually flustered. "You'd probably try that, if I had any. One would almost think you're trying to _woo_ me."

The second the words are out and reach Darren's ears, Chris can't pretend that he doesn't see the way Darren's fingers twitch and his ears turn red. He accounted for friendship, chalked Darren's friendliness down to them having something in common and having history. But the possibility that it's something _more_ for Darren seems inconceivable. He remembers Lauren's remark about Darren's determined insistence on only being with girls, and his brain adds that there's no way that even if Darren _was_ into guys Chris would be anywhere near his radar.

"I'm _kidding_ , Darren," Chris blurts quickly, when Darren doesn't look up from the ground. "It's not like I'd even dream about you…"

He doesn't get to finish the thought, nor see Darren's reaction, because Lauren and Julia burst in, grab both of them by the hand and drag them out to where the rest of the people are dancing and singing to whatever song is playing.

"There's no sneaking out, sneaking around, seven minutes in heaven or hiding in a closet," Lauren tells them both sternly, her eyes firmly on Darren when she says the last part.

The party is enough to derail Chris and Darren from the conversation they were having, and by the time Chris finally manages to get back to his room, he's wiped. Sleep comes easier than he expects it to, and he falls asleep wondering why Darren was nowhere to be seen when Chris was leaving the auditorium.

In the week that follows, Darren seems more determined to prove to Chris that he wants them to be friends -- he asks about Chris' plans, his family, everything that he's missed in the four years that passed. He talks about his own aspirations, how he isn't sure if he wants to get into music, theatre or acting in general. He still touches Chris as much as before, but there's an edge to it, like Darren is very cautious to not push too far, to not cross Chris' lines.

They re-launch the Potter musical, and the workshop participants are almost as excited as the Starkids when the hits counter goes crazy a few days after the videos go up. It goes viral, and there is suddenly chatter about making it a _thing_ \-- putting up videos of their plays online, making the music available when the requests start pouring in through the comments. Chris finally relents and makes a Facebook account, then laughs at Darren's pout when Lauren is the first one he adds as a friend.

By the weekend, Chris becomes more aware of the fact that he only has one more week left there and that he'll have to go back to Clovis. Lauren asks him about it and pushes him until he admits that he's planning to apply to UMich but that he also has auditions in LA.

"What do you want more?"

It should be a simple question, but Chris doesn't know how to answer it.

"I have no idea," he says, poking at his lunch aimlessly. "I don't want to say _here_ , because if I don't get in, it will suck. I don't want to say LA, because the auditions might go well, but most of the time they don't. There are no roles for gangly teenagers with a squeaky voice."

"Shut up, Colfer." She gives him a stern look that is frighteningly convincing for someone her size. "Don't put yourself down, and don't assume that just because the industry is stupid right now, it will always be. I mean, look at us, we're a bunch of hyperactive idiots, but there are people out there who seem to like our brand of crazy."

"Are you saying I'm crazy, Lo?" Chris smirks, the tension seeping out of him.

"If the shoe fits," she laughs then, and waits for a beat. "So, Christopher, how's Prince Charming doing?"

"First you call me crazy, then you imply that I'm Cinderella," Chris rolls his eyes. "You're full of compliments today."

"Again with the shoe fitting," Lauren shrugs. "He's been panicking about next week, you know?"

"What's next week?" Chris frowns, confusion washing over him.

"Don't think you're the only one aware of this all," she waves a hand around the dining room, "coming to an end."

"I bet you guys will be glad to have us gone."

"Oh boy, you're more oblivious than I thought," Lauren groans. "We actually got permission to run the workshop again, though I doubt we'll get a group as great as this. So no, we won't be glad to have you gone. Some even less than others," she tacks on.

In what is becoming a tradition of getting interrupted, Julia sweeps in and drags Lauren away to something that the Starkids have planned for the evening, and Chris is left staring at his plate, wondering what Lauren's remark meant. He's still lost in thought when Darren slides into the chair next to him, and Chris looks up.

"Where's your mind?" Darren asks when Chris' frown doesn't leave.

"Lauren said something," Chris starts, but then he shakes his head. "It doesn't matter. What's up?"

"I have something to talk to you about," Darren says, each word reeking of hesitation.

"What is it?"

"Can we find somewhere less…?" Darren glances around the mostly empty room, "… public?"

Chris' eyebrows shoot up, but he bites back the teasing response when he sees Darren chewing on his lip nervously.

"The music room?" he offers instead, knowing that it's usually empty on weekends.

Darren nods and waits until Chris drops off his plate, then they head out towards the classrooms, the silence between them loaded and making Chris worry.

"So, which house is on fire?" Chris tries for a light tone.

"I got an offer for a show," Darren blurts out without preamble. "It's not a huge thing, but it's for all of August."

Chris nods, and he waits for the punch line, expecting it to be something in the lines of Darren leaving that afternoon, or going to New York just when Chris will be heading west. He tugs on the hem of his tee, and his eyes don't seem to be able to settle on anything as the silence stretches on.

"Congratulations," he says eventually, when Darren doesn't speak and the tension becomes too much.

The memory of the last time he said it to Darren hits hard, even though the tone of the word isn't as harsh as he remembers it being then. Chris finally lifts his chin and seeks out Darren's eyes, an apology already on the tip of his tongue.

"Chris," Darren breathes out heavily, and it's enough to let Chris know that he's not the only one remembering that moment. "The show films in LA," he whispers, and Chris' mouth opens, but no words come out.

Darren takes a step closer, and there's a smile tugging on his lips. Then Chris feels the warmth of Darren's fingers on his as they tug his own hand away from the tee that he's been pulling on.

"There was something else I didn't get to tell you," Darren speaks quietly, and Chris holds his breath, his heart pounding in his chest. "I didn’t do things out of pity then, or to mock you," Darren keeps moving closer until Chris can feel the heat radiating against his own body. "And I wouldn't do either of those now. Can we try again?"

Chris lets out a shaky breath, and blinks a few times. He _knows_ what Darren is referring to, but he needs to hear it out loud, needs to know that he's not imagining things. His voice sounds scratchy and nervous when he speaks.

"Try what?"

"This," Darren says in a breath, and leans forward.

It's a different kiss -- the one four years ago was tentative, barely there, and only lasted a few seconds before Chris bolted -- but it makes Chris' heart race the same way. He doesn't return it at first, his body frozen in shock, but when Darren's own body tenses and starts pulling away, Chris moves. Their lips barely move against each other, but the grip on Chris' hand tightens and a beat later he can feel the corners of Darren's mouth turning up into a smile.

They both chuckle nervously when they pull away, and Chris wants to rub the blush from his cheeks. Darren smiles wide and looks at Chris with the most hopeful puppy-eyed expression that Chris has ever seen -- and that includes Hannah's attempts to wheedle his games consoles from him.

"So, LA?" Chris asks eventually, unable to fight a smile any longer.

"Yeah," Darren says around a grin. "I was hoping you might be in the area."

"I might," Chris says, trying to sound nonchalant, but he immediately knows he failed.

To hide his own embarrassment at being stupidly excited about the prospect of Darren being in California and about whatever it is that's happening between them, Chris leans forward and kisses the smile off Darren's mouth.

"Oh my god, _finally_ ," Lauren's voice startles them apart. "I was starting to think we'd have to resort to closets -- yeah yeah, I do appreciate the irony of that -- to get your heads out of your asses."

"Like you didn't stick your nose in anyway," Darren snaps, but there's no heat to it, and he follows his words with a chuckle.

Chris feels Darren lean into his own side when they face Lauren -- and Julia, who is lurking in the doorway -- and he can't fight the happy smile.

"Told him about LA, Dar?" Julia asks teasingly. "Or did you just grow a set of balls when none of us were looking?"

"Nah, my money still is on Chris' patience snapping," Lauren glances at Julia. "Darren can be unnaturally obtuse, you know that."

Neither Darren nor Chris tell her yet that she's lost that particular bet, whoever she's made it with, and the four of them fall into banter that makes Chris feel like he's been a part of their group forever. And maybe, if he is to believe Lauren's comments on how much Darren talked about him, Chris somehow was always there.

Darren's fingers rub circles into Chris' hand, and when the girls drift off into a conversation that doesn't include anyone else, Chris looks at Darren. The smile he's met with matches his own, and he leans forward like he's being pulled closer to Darren with a string.

"You're taller than I remembered," Darren whispers between kisses, the girls long forgotten.

"You've more hair than I remembered," Chris retorts. "It was a bit of a shock when I saw you on my laptop."

"Shit, I keep forgetting you saw the original upload," Darren cringes. "Please don't judge me."

"I've plenty other things to judge," Chris laughs. "You're also forgetting that I saw your early attempts at not only acting but also trying to sell the prep school good boy thing."

"Yeah, I never quite managed that, did I?" Darren blushes. "What with having inappropriate crushes on jailbaits."

"How many of those did you have?" Chris challenges, but he's still smiling.

"Just the one," Darren whispers after a panicky look crosses his face. "And it turned out pretty okay, don't you think?"

"Yeah," Chris nods. "Yeah, it did. So, City of Angels?"

"Together," Darren answers with a smile. "At least I hope so."

 _It doesn't solve everything_ , Chris thinks, _but it's a start_. With that in mind, he tugs Darren closer, and the kiss that follows is full of hope and unspoken promises.

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, massive apologies to Lindsey (and Cass), because apparently I have reading comprehension issues when it comes to dates: sorry this is late!  
> A thanks goes to Robert (my almost resident big bang partner by now), who had to put up with my panicking about this fic, who has picked this out of all the amazing summaries that were on offer. And another thanks to Nomi, who puts up with not only my comma abuse (and fixes it), but also with my frequent "why am I doing this?" panic attacks whenever I write anything at all.  
> Thanks also to Lindsey and Cass for organizing the BB, to Taylor and Mandy who are a huge writing motivation for me for all things CC ;) And to everyone who has made this far without wanting to tell me to get back to the day job I don't have (and anyone who stops long enough to leave a comment of any kind, or even just made it to the end of this story).  
> Phew, done. *drops on the floor*
> 
> ETA: And a never-ending thank you to Nomi, the best Beta reader a girl could ask for. Thank you for putting up with my comma abuse ;) (and well, everything else you suffer through when Betaing my writing)


End file.
